The Man And The Elf
by PieceOfGum
Summary: How can you let your master die without doing anything? How can you walk into death without looking back? Killing or disobedience, suicide or getting killed later? This is my take on that fateful night Regulus died. Written for xoxLewrahxox's prompt.


**Written for xoxLewrahxox's prompt on Bellatrix Lestrange: the Dark Lord's Most Faithful Forum.**

**Prompt:** a dream or hallucination of any character-

**Must Haves:** Your character must be from the dark side and in character. Maybe quite dark and sinister.

**Mustn't Haves:** A really happy, fairy, bunnies dancing around a meadow type dream.

**Preferences:** A multiple of a 100

**Dedicated to Sarah(xoxLewrahxox) for giving me the prompt, to Beawerious(TuesdayNovember) for hosting the challenge, and to Ana(Marlene Dietrich) for encouraging me 24/7.**

**And this is exactly 2975 words, hehe, I'm just within the wordcount.**

'Is this it?'

Regulus' hollow, yet determined voice rang through the cave, making Kreacher shiver, and there came a small ripple through the sea, as if something was moving beneath it. However, the house-elf did not reply - that was not necessary.

It rippled even more when Regulus stepped out of the boat and onto the small pit of land in the middle of the flat, eerie, dark lake, and now it was his turn to shiver as he recalled Kreacher's tale of the cold, dead, rotten inferi that were just beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, Regulus walked with short, quick steps over to the basin that looked more like some kind of a pillar filled with liquid rather than a cauldron, and fell to his knees before it. Beckoning for Kreacher to come over, he threw a glance at the lake, and was disgusted when he found that he could, if he squinted, actually see some of the corpses – gaunt, ragged, creepy things they were, and even more frightening than they had been in his nightmares. Gagging a little, he turned back towards Kreacher.

'Is this the potion the Dark Lord made you drink?'

'Y-yes, master Regulus, he-' Regulus cut him of, 'And then?' Kreacher scrunched his face up in an attempt to remember. 'He… he slipped something into it, Kreacher thought it looked a bit like gold, and there was a chain stuck to it, Kreacher ain't quite sure, looked a bit like a medallion, it did, or a locket, or a pocket watch.'

Regulus nodded slowly to himself, and those small slivers of doubt that had been in his mind when he left 12 Grimmauld Place disappeared bit by bit with every word the elf spoke. What the Dark Lord had dropped into the basin must have been a horcrux, he was certain of it(yet part of him did not want to be) - it fit with what he'd found in Horace's pensive, it fit with the cup he'd seen in Bella's hand as she'd walked out of the Dark Lord's chambers, it fit with something the Dark Lord had said when he asked to borrow Kreacher, something that had given Regulus the feeling that he was missing out on something - and another thing he was certain of was that if he wanted to destroy the horcrux, then he would have to destroy himself as well, or else it would be only a matter of time before the Dark Lord learned of this, and he would suffer a fate far worse than this one – there was no going back for now, no delaying it with a 'Think I'll need some more time to think this through' or a 'Maybe this is just me imagining things' - this was it.

'Kreacher, listen carefully now, I do not want you to interrupt me. I order you to give me this potion-' here he was cut of by Kreacher's muffled protests, as the poor house-elf tried in vain to tell his master about the danger, 'No, master Re-' he threw himself onto the ground and tugged at his ears while kicking in the ground in a pitiful attempt to avoid the order he had been given - orders are important, but master Regulus' life more so - 'you cannot do this, sire master, you cannot, it tastes horrible, it'll hurt, it'll make them pull you under, you cannot, it'll make you see things-' 'I know that.'

Kreacher froze.

He didn't even dare breathe in a bizarre hope that maybe, if he kept silent for long enough, master Regulus would see what a terrible mistake this was.

Master Regulus did not see what a terrible mistake this was.

'Give me this potion, force me to drink it, no matter whether I beg or threaten you to stop, not even if I loose consciousness, not even then, and when I have drunk it all, pick up the medallion or locket or pocket watch or whatever is down there, make a copy, and put this,' he put a small note in Kreacher's shaking hand and closed his fingers around it, 'in it. Then you go home, and-' Regulus blinked back tears at the thought of his mother, how she would be all alone now - 'take care of Mother. Promise me that. You won't tell her, nor anybody else in the family about this, and you will destroy this… thing.' he pointed towards the basin. 'That's an order.'

These final words, this order, was the final drop for the poor elf. It staggered backwards, still clutching the note, shaking its head muttering 'no' under its breath over and over, too overcome by emotions to even attempt to sort them out.

Regulus stared at Kreacher's funny behaviour and couldn't help but think back to the time when Kreacher would be having nightmares about him getting clothes and never having his head chopped of, and how Sirius had 'cheered him up' by drugging the poor little elf with some Muggle invention called _crack,_ thus making the now very happy elf stagger, giggle and drool all over the place. Of course, Walburga didn't know that, she just thought that Kreacher had lost it after one beating too many, and considered getting a new one. Regulus allowed himself a small laugh at the fond memory, but then, as if to remind him of his purpose, the corpse of a small woman or a tall child decided to bump against the boat they had arrived in, making it wobble, and both men – or, rather, the man and the elf – jumped.

Regulus shook himself. He was supposed to finish it now, not get caught up in cozy memories from his childhood. He turned back towards the basin, and reached out to the goblet. Then, hurriedly, not wanting to wait in a fear of changing his mind, he filled it to the brim with liquid, and then he drank it down, gagging a little - it was ice cold, yet it felt as if it was burning his throat - painful, yes, but it could've been worse - he was going to finish. And so, the goblet was filled and emptied once - twice - thrice. But then, when he got to the fourth round, that wretched poison that he'd allowed inside of his body made an uproar - it pulsated through his whole body, led by his traitorous veins, first in his torso, then out to his legs, his arms, his head - blisters were popping in front of his eyes, there was a humming in his ears, everything was getting blurry, but then, as he attempted in desperation to focus on his surroundings, he was horrified to find that he was staring straight into a horribly familiar person's face though he did not know who it was - no wait - he knew - Kreacher - more liquid, more blur, louder humming - there were voices ringing in his head now, faint, faint voices from another time, yet they were so unbearably clear, and his vision was clouded over by a great dark shadow that looked sort of strange, almost as if it was split in three, but the voices were still ringing, yelling his name, over and over, talking, but he couldn't tell what they were saying, and now that familiar face was there again but he had no idea who it was, more liquid, louder voices, the funny shadow was not a shadow at all, it was three people, three people clad in black robes, he could see them, he knew who they were, but who were they - more liquid, and now he could clearly see their faces, and the voices were loud and clear as bells -

_'My son, my Regulus, why-'_

_'You are now bound to service me-'_

_'I'm leaving this miserable, rotten pit, I can't-'_

Shaking his head wildly, Regulus attempted to back away from his weeping mother, his ice-cold and cruel master, his rebellious, bold brother, but he was too weak - they, however, were strong, stronger than him, and they walked, no, floated towards him with an inhuman grace, their faces eerily pale, and they seemed kind of translucent. And, to make things even worse, they were staring straight at him, eyes unblinking and soulless, making him want to run, but he couldn't, he couldn't, and they were still talking, only he could only catch phrases every now and then, he felt as if he was going up and down in an elevator, sometimes he would high up, maybe even gracing the ceiling, then they would be close to undistinguishable again, and he would see a green shape moving around in the same pattern, back and forth, and each time it went forth he would zoom back down to the lower floors and he would hear their voices clearly, see their faces right in front of him- 'Such a good boy, oh my Regulus, my son, my son!' Walburga would sob, and then the Dark Lord and Sirius would laugh and he was never fully certain what they were saying, but the Dark Lord would furiously snarl 'What a disgraceful blood-traitor! And a Black nonetheless!' and Sirius would be caught in a mixture between 'I'm leaving!' and 'Looks like he actually had a spine after all', and through it all Regulus wanted to run to his mother and tell her that she needn't weep, he was alive, he wanted to fall to his knees before Sirius and beg him to take him back, and he wanted to get them both away from the Dark Lord but then, as some more liquid ran down his throat, something happened - suddenly, he was back on the higher floors, the elevator had managed to navigate itself from the lower parts of the building that was his head, the three people were fading, they were naught but mere ghosts now, they were fading, fading, fading, but so was everything else, and the last thing he knew before he lost consciousness was that there was someone close to him yelling something, it sounded familiar, but he couldn't tell what it was, was there even anyone there yelling anything, or was it just a dream -

he blacked out.

'Master Regulus! Master Regulus! Oh, master, please, master, Regulus, Regulus! Wake up!' Kreacher shook his master with much force, which was quite the feat with his thin arms, trying to make the man wake up - he couldn't be dead, he couldn't be - Kreacher refused to think so, it was bad enough that he'd given him this potion and caused him pain - caused his own master pain! - if he wasn't going to die too. No, no, no, that couldn't happen, that was unthinkable, unimaginable, he couldn't allow it, he wouldn't allow it - and then, as if to answer his prayers, Regulus' eyes opened, and for a minute those two, elf and man, stared into each other's eyes, not saying anything.

Finally, the man managed to open his dried and blemished mouth - 'The basin.' Kreacher nodded in understanding, but he didn't move from his master's side, he just used some unknown elf magic that made the thing levitate itself out of the basin and then fly towards Kreacher, who grabbed it. He then looked down to Regulus, looking for some kind of approval, or an order, but all he could get out of the dying man was a tired smile and an almost imperceptible nod, but to the elf, that was enough: he snapped his fingers again, and now there were two lockets instead of one. He opened the fake one, put the small note inside, and then closed it. He then sent it flying towards to basin, then he put the locket around his neck, tightening it so it wouldn't fall off, before finally turning back to Regulus. 'What now?'

Regulus made a funny sound then - it sounded like a mixture between coughing, wheezing and chortling, but it was certainly not laughter - laughter doesn't sound like this. 'Oh, Kreacher,' rasped the eighteen year old who now looked more like an eighty year old, 'don't you see? I'm not meant to survive this…' Kreacher stared at him. 'But… master survived the poison - master'll be alright, Kreacher knows - master's being silly-' 'I'm not -' he broke of with a cough, several coughs, several violent coughs, sitting up in a sitting position before falling back again, more miserable than ever, now looking more grey than white, 'I'm not - silly - I'm, I'm, I'm being sensible - the D-dark Lord will kill me, Kreacher, he w-will kill me…' 'No! You'll go into hiding, you will, you and Mistress Black will run away and be safe, you'll-' Regulus, who seemed to have gained some strength, shook his head and smiled again, 'No. Even if I did want to isolate my mother from society, I wouldn't be able to hide from the Dark Lord - he's a thousand times more powerful than any wizard, and he'll find me, and he'll kill me, and he'll kill mother, and you… I can't let that happen.' hearing that his Mistress was in danger as well seemed to pull a trigger in Kreacher - 'No, no, no, not Mistress Black too, no, won't let that happen, no, no, not Mistress Black, not-' he was getting himself more worked up with every word he spoke, 'I'll do anything, just please, not the two of you, I won't let-' 'Then finish this. Or else mother will die as well. I'm doomed, Kreacher: she's not. Roll me into the water.' 'No… no… I- oh, master, no…' Regulus stared firmly at him, feeling stronger and stronger as every second went by yet he was still unable to actually move. 'Just dip my toe in the water. That's all I ask for. Then you can go home, and take care of mother.' the elf was still not convinced. 'Please.'

Hearing this final, humble word made Kreacher snap out of his pitiful state, and he realized what he was gonna have to do if he wanted to protect Mistress Black, if he wanted to save the only person he could save - let Regulus die.

Crying silent tears at the size of small planets, the little elf decided to do this as quickly as possible, throwing a rock into the lake, thus waking the inferi - heads were bobbing up, looking for him and his master without any eyes, arms with three our four fingers were scraping at the pit of land they were on, trying to get a grip, and legs were splashing around, trying to gain the corpses some speed as they swam towards the two living - horrified, Kreacher backed into the basin, trying to drag Regulus with him, but Regulus only smiled, and then those, those, those _creatures_ came up on the island, and started walking towards them, a little girl whose matted and worn-out hair still had a ribbon in it - or, at the very least, the remains of a ribbon - had grabbed hold of Regulus' limp leg and was currently pulling and tugging and _gnawing_ on it, a man with the remains of a long beard that was now one big mess had grabbed hold of his waist and was pulling in it with all he had, but Kreacher wouldn't let go, not even when a woman whose face had been torn of grabbed his shoulders and tried to drag him with her into the lake -but then, both child, man and woman gave a tug at the same time, and Kreacher's fingers betrayed him, they let go of Regulus - the two corpses had now gotten assistance by three other men, and the five were dragging the now unconscious and strangely peaceful Regulus off the island, his feet were dipped in water, his legs, his waist, and soon all that could be seen of Regulus Black of the Noble House of Black was a limp, unmoving shadow just underneath the surface, and soon that was gone too.

Kreacher stared at the spot where Regulus had disappeared, no longer seeing the inferi, this was a dream, he had not seen this, Regulus Black had not just disappeared like that, he was not gone, he was just messing with him, most natural thing in the world, of course, and in a few seconds now, he would wake up and stare into the eyes of a laughing and joyful teenage boy that was very much alive. But then, as the woman and her assistant, another child, dragged him underneath water, the happy illusion he'd just made himself shattered, and all he could think of was to get _away_ from this horrible place.

Snapping his fingers, Kreacher made his world spin, the inferi's grip on him loosened, he was no longer underwater, he was being squeezed through a tube, and then, finally, he found himself in the big, familiar room that was the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Breathing in deeply a few times, not quite believing where he was, not quite believing that it was possible to go back to such a familiar place after such horrible, unimaginable in a matter of seconds, Kreacher just stood there in the kitchen for a number of seconds, before taking that gruesome locket off his neck. This locket, this thing, this piece of metal, this was what Regulus Black had died for. And though he felt empty and numb and useless from the loss of his master, Kreacher would do anything within his power to destroy this thing, to fulfill the now dead man's last wish, even if it would cost him his life.

It was what master Regulus would have wanted.


End file.
